In an effort to avoid spending my summer vacation crying over John Green books and calculating my future debt, I decided to apply to a couple of internships, including one at CollegeHumor in New York City. Because they are not an ordinary company, I figured I couldn’t send in some ordinary cover letter. And because I know there’s a 95.1% chance of them dumping my application directly into the trash due to lack of experience, I’ve decided to post my feeble attempts at impressing them here because frankly, I don’t post enough on this lovely blog and I want to do my best to impress the people who are subscribed to it (all 2 of you…hi Mom!). Enjoy.
Somewhere in NY, Probably a Gated Community
Numbers Go Here
Let me begin with a thought-provoking hook that I spent 20 minutes meticulously constructing because perfectionism is my kryptonite and baby, I was born this way so there’s no point in pretending that I’m some sort of prolific writer who can produce 100 books a day, unless that’s what you want in which case, I can totally do that too. What was I saying? Oh right, the hook: Why do employers continue to hire Lindsay Lohan? Wait, you’re not supposed to begin with a question, are you? Or follow up a question with a question? Or question the question you were questioning?
Now that I’ve opened up a black hole with my literary paradox, I’ll proceed to tell you why I’m qualified to attend your institution which, as you will see in the next few paragraphs, has been my dream since I stumbled upon your website 5 minutes ago. I was born in a small, New England town in 1993 in a cabin in the woods, which is where my parents left me after realizing my mother hadn’t just been carrying a food baby for 9 months. Luckily, I was adopted by a pack of beautiful centaurs that accepted me as one of their own. However, after their third attempt to eat me (whoa, wait, did I say centaurs? I meant wolves…), I was forced to set off on my own. While I currently live in Boston with a bunch of humans, I would be able to spend the summer in NY due to the 2,500-dollar stipend my school gave me for drug money shopping hot dates living expenses. I’m including this part of my history to highlight my independent spirit and my ability to recognize negative situations and adapt accordingly. My advisor (or, as I like to call him, my college spirit guide) told me never to be too cryptic in my writing so I figured I might as well come out and tell you how these anecdotes make me the perfect candidate for your school.
In fact, I’ve probably already lost your interest at this point because statistically, admission officers spend about 2 minutes reading college essays. (Notice how I am able to retain useful information and apply it at appropriate times.) So, to make this process easier for you, I’ll continue my statement in a bullet point format. (You’re welcome.) I have the following skills:
- Remembering coffee orders that involve no more than 3 ingredients (includes the coffee itself)
- Watching Titanic without crying
- Finding 4-leaf clovers (1 recorded occurrence)
- Making cereal
- Danimals Yogurt (for myself)
- Twinkies (every box, just in case)
Sorry, that got mixed up with my grocery list. I hope you don’t mind. I’d fix it but that requires highlighting the text, finding the delete button, actually hitting the delete button and that would cut into my “Self-Deprecation Session” (which involves me crying into an empty tube of Pringles while my other friends get internships and become successful) and truthfully, ain’t nobody got time for that.
Wait a second. I just realized…am I not supposed to be writing an admissions essay? Is College Humor not an actual college? Well, this is embarrassing. Someone should really make that less confusing. You know what? I’m just going to send this in anyway. I could use an internship too so I’m not really losing anything by submitting this. YOLO, right? I knew you’d understand.
Your ever dutiful, virtuous, whimsical, responsible, respectful, desperate, hard-working, kind of funny applicant,
Tyler (not Taylor) Vendetti
Hugs and Kisses! Xoxoxoxoxo oooooooooo
(Just realized Xs are kisses and we aren’t that close. LOL!)
(I originally posted this on BuzzFeed but decided to share it here as well because I haven’t posted anything on my blog in awhile. Enjoy!)
I’ve noticed a trend in recent Hollywood film productions. It started with Red Riding Hood (2011) and continued with Snow White and the Huntsman (2012). In 2013, this pattern will continue with the release of Hansel and Gretel Witch Hunters and Jack the Giant Killer (originating from Jack and the Beanstalk). Maybe Hollywood is running out of books to turn into movies or maybe they’re just trying to get people to appreciate childhood classics in a different way (that is to say, with million-dollar effects and 30 minutes worth of fighting scenes). I don’t know. All I know is, this trend doesn’t seem to be slowing down any time soon so I thought I might predict the next few Hollywood creations myself.
The Ugly Duckling Potential Synopsis: Haunted by the derision of the other ducklings, Cyngus flees from the public eye. It is only after he reaches adulthood does he realize his true swan identity… and the power that it yields.
- The animal kingdom is about to get ugly.
- There’s more to this duck than meets the eye.
- Anybody order the duck special with a side of revenge?
The Three Little Pigs Potential Synopsis: Thomas Giles is a successful farmer, a faithful husband, a loving father, and a mad scientist. When three of Giles’ genetically engineered pigs escape, he embarks on a race with town officials to hunt them down before it is too late.
- Kill, kill, kill by the hair of their chinny chin chin.
- They’ll huff and they’ll puff and they’ll blow your head in.
- These are no ordinary pigs.
Frog Prince Potential Synopsis: When Amanda is forced to marry an arrogant prince, she gives up hope of finding happiness. It is not until she meets Fred, a talking frog with a claim to loyalty, does she realize the true meaning of love.
- “I now pronounce you frog and wife.”
- Who said love wasn’t magical?
- One kiss could change everything…
Goldilocks and the Three Bears Potential Synopsis: When Goldilocks’ magic porridge is stolen from her, she enlists the help of three bears, Polar, Grizzly and Panda, to help her get it back.
- This adventure is justtttt right.
- When it comes to porridge, you don’t mess with these bears.
- One bowl to rule them all.
The Boy Who Cried Wolf Potential Synopsis: Prankster Aaron Jeckles has been crying wolf for years. When he takes one of his jokes too far, though, Jeckles quickly gets more attention than he’s ever wanted… from a pack of wild beasts. Now, it’s up to him to save his town
- What happens when a harmless joke takes a terrible turn?
- Aaron Jeckles let the dogs out. Now, he must put them back in.
- Are you afraid of the big bad wolf?
For those of you being redirected here from HelloGiggles, welcome to my blog. If you are looking for the answers to all your problems, you will not find them here. If you are looking for answers to the Autocorrect article I just posted, however, you’re in luck. I have provided a translation below for your convenience. If you are not being directed here from HelloGiggles and have no idea what I’m talking about, click here, read the article (to the best of your ability), then come back to this page and everything will make sense again.
Hello boys and girls. Today, I want to address the topic of autocorrect. Autocorrect is a tricky system. Every time I go to say something normal, my phone will change in into something completely different. It’s really starting to get on my nerves. Especially when I type something embarrassing to my mom or dad and I have to go back and correct myself. Isn’t that what autocorrect is for anyway? For correcting MY mistakes? I know that it’s mostly my fault. I type too quickly and sometimes, I don’t even look at the screen when I’m texting but I don’t have nearly enough time in the day. Plus, I’m always listening to music through my headphones, and music can be awfully distracting. I’ve been thinking about asking for a new phone for Christmas this year but I can’t think of any other phone that I would want. I’ve gotten so used to the touch screen function that I can’t imagine typing with real buttons.
I think we are becoming too dependent on technology. When I was a kid, we didn’t have fancy cell phones or gadgets. We had dial-up computers that would take hours to turn on and home phones with extension cords. Our TV was the size of a small cardboard box and texting didn’t even exist. You actually had to pick up the phone and call someone. No one does that anymore! Now we have things like Skype, Twitter, Facebook, and MySpace to avoid talking to people altogether. I bet in a few years, we won’t even need texting. Some scientist will invent a gizmo that will transmit our thoughts to another person instantly. I wouldn’t be surprised if flying cars are invented too.
These days, we don’t do anything ourselves! I’m not saying we should eliminate technology altogether and go back to being cavemen. There are plenty of inventions that I appreciate. (For the record, autocorrect is not one of them.) I like that wire that let’s you play your iPod through your speakers. I like those holiday cards that sing to you. I even like electronic books.
Life was so simple back then. We didn’t have to submit our essays online and Facebook was never around to help us procrastinate. Believe it or not, kids actually used to read books in their spare time (or, at least I did) or play with their Gameboys. School was a place for learning how to make friends, not essays. I remember looking forward to my Arts and Crafts class every afternoon. It made me want to GO to school! Haha! And let’s not forget about show and tell! When I had something interesting to share, I would not waste any time getting ready for school in the morning. But guess what? Kids nowadays have nothing to share! Parents seem to give their kids iPhones in Kindergarten. By the time they get to 5th grade, the coolest toy they own is an iPad. What ever happened to playing with Barbies and Beanie Babies? Why not share something unique like a homemade puppet or a pet rock? Is that not cool anymore?
I wish we could get back to the past sometimes, but I know that’s not possible. Time only goes forward. Eventually, we are all going to grow up and work in fancy buildings and make real money. We might even wear suits and carry briefcases. Who knows?Technology will continue to develop until one day, robots take over the world and humans become enslaved. (Okay, I’m exaggerating, but you never know!) Maybe one day, someone will even invent a phone with an accurate autocorrect function so people can actually understand what I’m typing. Guess we’ll have to wait and see!
Jello boys and hurls. Today, I want to a dress the topic of autocorrect. Autocorrect is a trucky system. Ever time I goo to say something formal, my phony will change it into something comet melt different. It’s rally stating to get on my knees. Specially when I tip some thing ember raising to my mom or deed and I have to go black and correct myself. Isn’t that hat autocorrect is four ANY WAY YOU WANT IT, THAT’S THE WAY YOU NEED IT? Fur faxing my missed takes? I know that it’s mostly my vault. I type too quack quack and sometimes, I don’t even look at the scene when I’m sexting but I don’t have needy enough time in the bay. Plus or minus, I’m all ways listing to music through my headlights, and music can be lawfully detracting. I’ve been thinking about aching for a knee phone for Chestnut this ear but I can’t think of any mother phone that I wood want. I’ve got ten so used to the ouch screen function that I can’t imagine typing with real butts.
I think we are NEVER EVER EVER becoming too dependent on technology. When I was akin, we didn’t have funky cell phonies or gadgets. We had deal-up computers that would take whores to turn on and home phones wit hex tension cords. Our TV was the size of a small cardboard boxer and taxing didn’t even exist. You actuary had to pack up the phone and call someone. No one does that many more! Now we have things like Skip, Tweeter, face book, and My pace to avoid talking to people all together. I bet in a few tears, we won’t even need hexing. Some scenic list will invent a gizmo that will transmitten our thoughts to another per son instantaneously. I wouldn’t be SURPRISE if flying cats are invented too.
Therese days, we don’t so anything our shelves! I’m not saying we should laminate technology all together and go back to beating cavemen. There are plenty of inventions that I apprentice ate. (For the recording, autocorrect is not one of them.) I like that wore that lest you play your iPod through your sneakers. I like those holly cards that zing to you. I even lick electric books sometimes.
Life was so pimple back then. We didn’t have to submerge essays online and face book was NEVER EVER EVER around to help us procreate. Belie it or not, kids actually used to red books in their pear time (Orc, at least I did) or plea with their Gameboys. Cool was a place for earning how to make fried, not essays. I remember looking onward to my Carts and Rafts class every afternoon. It made me wont to goo to school! HAHAHAHHAH! And let’s not forgo about snow and hell! When I had something interesting to snare, I would not waste basket anytime getting ready for school in the mourning. But guess what?!?!? Kids now a day have nothing to spare! Parents seem to give their kiddies iPhones in kindle garden. By the time they get to filth grade, the coolest toy they own is an I peed. Whatevs happened to playing with Bar Beer and Bean Babies? Why not share something unicorn like a home aid puppy or a pet rock? Is that not cool anymore?
I wash we could get back to the pest sometimes, but I know that’s not popsicle. Time only goes forward. Even duelly, we are all going to grow up and work in fanny buildings and make real Monday. We might even wear suites and marry brief cases. Who knows? Techno will continue to develop until one day, robots take over the wild and hummus become enslaved. (Okay, I’m exacerbating, but you never knew!) Call Me Maybe one day, someone will even covet a phone with an accumulate autocorrect function do people can actuary understood what I’m typing. Guess well have to wait and sleep!
I’m not a political person. In fact, I hate politics. I hate it more than the Hulk hates wearing t-shirts or Snooki hates proper grammar because I firmly believe that no amount of bickering is going to change my opinion on anything and it is most definitely not going to change yours. (And that’s assuming that I have a solid grasp on my political stance in the first place, which I don’t. Social security? Medicaid? Tax cuts? They teach you all of these terms in the Life 101 class that I have yet to take.) I did, however, watch the Presidential debates last night. Not, as I said, for the politics but rather, for the humor that came out of it. The Internet has turned politics into something anyone can enjoy, even those with an elementary education on the US political system. Here’s why:
Twitter Updates/Trending Topics
This is the first time in my life that I have watched a political broadcast while also watching the Twitter live-feed waterfall and it will not be the last. Knowing how well a candidate did during the debate is as simple as reading the Twitter updates and trending topics that emerge immediately after. Here are some of my favorites:
And my personal favorite…
Who said Twitter wasn’t fun?
There’s nothing I love more than a sassy politician. In between the political jargon that was tossed out on screen and the desperate interjections from the moderator, the candidates did manage to throw out some entertaining quotes that made the entire episode worth watching.
“Under Gov. Romney’s definition, there are a whole bunch of millionaires and billionaires who are small business. Donald Trump is small business. And I know Donald trump doesn’t like to think of himself as small… anything.” - Obama
“I’ve got 5 boys. I’m used to people saying the same thing over and over again hoping it becomes true.” - Romney
“I had five seconds before you interrupted me.” - Obama
“Expensive things hurt families.” – Romney
“You know, four years ago, I said that I’m not a perfect man and I wouldn’t be a perfect president. And that’s probably a promise that Governor Romney thinks I’ve kept.” – Obama
Can we add these debates to the weekly FOX lineup? I’m running out of funny comedians to watch.
Photoshop was the best invention of the 20th century, if you ask me. Without it, none of the pictures that surfaced on Tumblr last night would have produced a chuckle. Because who would want to look at regular screenshots of the debate when you could look at these pictures instead?
In junior year, I will have the chance to do something that not many people will ever experience: study abroad. Britain. Ireland. Scotland. Greece. Spain. I can go literally anywhere, do anything, see any overhyped, publically acclaimed landmark that my heart desires. I could teach English in Bhutan, build houses in Chile or herd sheep in Finland. (There may not even be sheep in Finland but to be honest, I’ve been slacking on my historical knowledge of slightly obscure countries. My bad.)
But I want to go to Australia.
The mere mention of this isolated continent sparks a flame inside my brain for reasons that I have yet to understand. My longing for the outback has been planted in my heart since birth, making the impulse seem more of an instinct than a legitimate want, and it’s driving me insane. Because truthfully, I don’t really want to go to Australia. In fact, if you listed every one of my major interests and reversed them, you would end up with a short history of Australia and its defining aspects. On the last page of this novel, you would find a picture of me, face lined with tears, sitting above a caption reading “Tyler Vendetti, banned from the country by the Australian government in hopes of preventing a catastrophic emotional meltdown upon arrival” coupled with a list of potential causes for this predicted disaster. The list also happens to possess an alternate title, “5 Reasons Why I Shouldn’t Want To Go To Australia,” which can be found exclusively in my journal and in the space below. Don’t enjoy it too much.
I Don’t Like Bugs
Don’t be fooled by my exterior. I may have the body of a 19-year-old girl but my mental capacity for handling the tiniest of insects plateaued at the age of 10. Bees. Ants. Beetles. You name it. I’m even scared of the Daddy Long Legs, for Pete’s sake, and a baby with PlayDoh could create a mold more frightening than one of those (no offense DLL…you’re still my favorite “least favorite” insect). So, you can imagine my delight when I discovered what insects originate from this floating death-trap of an island.
Here’s a sample of what I found:
I focus on spiders here because Australia is the proud owner of the world’s most dangerous collection (and also I’d like to pretend that spiders are the only creepy-crawly I’ll have to worry about while I’m there, which I know is grossly optimistic but hey, ignorance is bliss).
The exception to this bug repulsion will forever and always be the dragonfly because it doesn’t bite, sting, buzz or do anything remotely harmful and also because it is the most easily translated into fashionable jewelry. Wearing a dragonfly necklace is acceptable. I may even ask to be your friend. If you come to school wearing a spider or scorpion necklace, though, I will tell everyone that you are secretly a witch and I will not feel sorry about it. (And before you say it, I know spiders are not insects but calling them that makes writing this article much easier.)
I Don’t Like the Heat
Whenever I get into an argument with my mother, I threaten to move to Alaska, which is particularly effective because she knows I mean it. When presented with an igloo or a summer home on the coast of California, there is a good chance I would choose the prior, not because I have anything against Hollywood but because I’d rather snuggle up in 3 jackets in front of a fire and drink hot cocoa than suntan on the beach any day. All of which leads me to wonder why I would even consider travelling to one of the hottest and driest places on planet Earth. I still don’t know.
I’m Afraid of Deadly Marine Animals
Australia is a tease. With temperatures hot enough to melt people from the inside out coupled with oceans blue and alluring enough to give Hugh Laurie’s eyes a run for the money, not going in the water is almost impossible. So what better way to troll people by then populating the water with creatures that could kill you instantly? See below:
The prospect of encountering any of these creatures will keep me out of the water (along with those strong riptides) should I choose to make the 24-hour plight to Australia. Without Australian beaches, the country doesn’t have much more to offer. So again…why do I want to go here?
I Don’t Want to Scuba Dive
The Great Barrier Reef is perhaps Australia’s most popular tourist attraction and for good reasons. This coral paradise stretches for over 2,600 kilometers and holds the title for world’s biggest living organism. It also happens to be teeming with wildlife (some of which is deadly) and lies well beneath the ocean’s surface, thus requiring one to scuba dive in order to properly experience it.
Now, I’m a very emotional person and not just in the crying-over-spilled-milk sort of way. If I see something that I like, I will not waste time jumping on the opportunity to get it. Likewise, on the other end of the spectrum, if I see something that I don’t like, say, a monstrous shark floating towards me, my first inclination will be to swim away as fast as physically possible, without thinking or using my common sense. I don’t know much about scuba diving but I do know that if you ascend too quickly, an air bubble will inject itself into your heart and kill you almost instantly. In a reef buzzing with sting rays, crocodiles and sharks (jumping to extremes here, I know, but bear with me), there is no way anyone is going to prevent me from racing to the surface, not even myself. Another instant-death strategy, it seems.
I Get Homesick
Australia, if you didn’t know, is 24 hours away by plane. Meaning, you will be in the air for a full day. (Actually, two days. The plane crosses the International Date Line halfway through, allowing you to essentially not exist for a full day. Who said magic wasn’t real?) This means, though, that the probability of friends or family visiting (or even Skyping) remains low. Now, what if I don’t make any friends there? What if I need moral support to tell me it’s okay and that I survived yet another day in the world’s most dangerous country? Writing my thoughts in my journal is great and all but it’s not nearly as good at comforting my anxiety as my mother and friends are. Not to mention the cost of getting 8,000 miles away from home will put me into debt for at least a decade. Top Ramen diet for life!!
The only upside to this point is, if you do make contact, you will technically be communicating with these people from their tomorrow, which designates you an official time-traveller. Who needs time-turners when you have Australia?
Every rational bone in my body tells me I’m crazy, tells me there’s no logical reason for wanting to go to one of the world’s most terrifying countries when the scariest thing I’ve done is go on Universal’s “The Hulk” roller coaster (twice, I’ll have you know). But perhaps that’s the reason I want to go, after all? Perhaps my body yearns to step out of its comfort zone, to get a little illogical and give a little love to one of the most neglected countries in existence. People will go to Bhutan to teach orphans or build houses in Chile or herd sheep in Finland (okay, maybe not that) but they will not go to Australia, even though they can. Maybe that’s what sparks my interest, the prospect of going somewhere that no one else ever has or ever will, of taking that once-in-a-lifetime experience and making it even more unique.
Whatever it is, whatever ungodly instinct is making me crave this potential death-sentence, I’m sure there’s a reason for it (even if it will remain unaware to me until a week into my study abroad stay). Until then, I can only sit back and anticipate the day that I can take the plunge into the land down under.
After extensive research (also known as polling my lunch table), I’ve come to the realization that not only does each season have its own food item but it also has its own designated drink. Let’s start with the obvious.
It’s apple picking season. Rows of McIntyre and Granny Smith apples dangle at your fingertips as you carry the heavy duty plastic bag (that you paid obscene amounts of money for) down the bushy aisles. Orange and brown leaves crunch under your boot. Half-carved pumpkin displays litter the nearby shop windows. You step up to the donut stand, order a dozen bite-sized rings of goodness and grasp the complementary cup of steaming cider. Suddenly, it’s like all of your hard work has been liquefied and fashioned for your taste-buds. Too hot? Save it for later. Unlike other drinks, cider is tasty hot or cold. Perfection never seemed so close.
All day sledding events always seem like a good idea at the time. It is not until you return as a human icicle do you realize how much you appreciated the functionality of your limbs. Once inside, there are options. Freshly brewed tea. Soup in a cup. Heated sugar water (I’ve never understood this). However, nothing compares to the creamy delight hot chocolate delivers. With sugary mini-marshmallows bobbing on the brown surface and its heavenly aroma drifting through your nostrils, hot chocolate says “Welcome back, fingers” better than any beverage I know.
I don’t know if eggnog is acceptable all winter. Sipping it in the middle of February seems odd to me but I don’t think it’s insignificant enough to write out entirely. Eggnog has a unique sweetness to it that I have yet to discover in any other seasonal drink. (It also has a surprisingly difficult name to spell because I have typed in eggnogg every single time I’ve mentioned it and been forced to erase.) Thanks, eggnog, for tampering with my taste-buds and highlighting my inability to construct simple words.
I have a burning hatred for the color yellow, mostly because it makes me think of bees, ugly almost-bruises, and other unpleasant things. Yellow also acts as the poster-color for Spring, my least favorite season solely because it is a wannabe summer. Yet, somehow, my two greatest enemies were able to collide and transform into an acceptable (and opportunity-filled) refreshment. It can be sold at yard sales, street corners and summer shacks. It can be made more sweet, more bitter, more distilled by simply adding a new combination of ingredients. And, like Kool-Aid, it looks strapping in a chilled pitcher.
Remember those old Nestea Iced Tea commercials with that serial-killer-turned-snowman? The one who would stumble around in his half-melted, skeleton state then pull out an Iced Tea and magically morph back into his old, frozen, angry-looking self? Despite the nightmare-inducing quality those 30 second clips possessed, something about them made iced tea look enticing, almost as enticing as Coca Coca after being advertised by that polar bear. Almost.
Give or take the various trade-ins (Kool-Aid, Crystal Light, the juice from Flavored Ice Pops), these beverages seem to be the leading competitors in the race for seasonal excitement. Pull out your calendar. Find today. Find the nearest holiday. Start obnoxiously scribbling out dates as they pass and lastly, begin mentally preparing for whatever food and drink combination lies ahead. You’re gonna need it.